


The Date

by mmouse15



Series: Love in Small Steps [4]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-27
Updated: 2008-05-27
Packaged: 2019-02-01 22:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12713967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmouse15/pseuds/mmouse15
Summary: In May of 2008, the ProwlxJazz community on Livejournal had a challenge, where touch and six fabrics were the prompts. Each story in the series is one of the fabrics. This is fishnet.





	The Date

Title: The Date (Fishnet)  
Series: Love in Small Steps  
By: mmouse15  
Rating: PG-13  
Word Count: 2700  
Pairing: Prowl/Jazz  
Author's Notes: This is entry #4 for the May 08 challenge on the ProwlxJazz comm here on LJ.

 

Jazz and Carly sped down the road toward town. Carly was getting ready for a date with Spike and Jazz had volunteered to go with her. He wanted to learn more about this dating custom and what it entailed. Carly was more than happy to answer his questions and the two were enjoying themselves enormously.  
"OK, so what's the meaning of lipstick? I don't get that one at all." Jazz said.  
"Um, that one's hard to explain." Carly told him.  
"No cop-outs here, Carly. You promised." Jazz came back.  
"You're right, I did. Alright. Lipstick's most basic function is to draw attention to the lips. It can also moisturize and protect the lips, but for dating purposes, it draws the eye and therefore the mind to the lips, which leads to thoughts of kissing. How's that?"  
"Hm. OK, what about high heels?" Jazz moved down his list of questions.  
"They define and showcase the calves of the female which some people find sexy. Plus they make you taller." Carly answered.  
"They look dangerous. I mean, they're not a very stable thing to walk on." Jazz told her.  
"I agree, which is why I wear shoes with short heels or flats most of the time." Carly replied  
"Well then, what about…never mind, we're here." Jazz pulled into the parking lot of the mall, moving around the lot to be near the large department store that Carly favored for shopping.  
"Thanks, Jazz. I'll be out fairly soon. I just need some stockings and a slip."  
"What are…never mind. You can explain when you get back." Jazz laughed.  
"I will!" and Carly left to do her shopping.  
Bored already, Jazz rapidly shifted through the airwaves and found a radio station he liked, then commed Blaster, who told him that the scouting party that was watching the Decepticons had just returned to the Ark. Pleased since that meant that Prowl was back, Jazz turned his focus back to his list of questions for Carly and the music running through his systems.

 

"Carly, that wasn't soon." The saboteur informed her after 2 hours.  
"Oh, I know Jazz, and I'm really sorry, but I found this gorgeous little black dress and once I'd bought it, I had to get a new bra and new undies and different stockings and a different pair of shoes, and then I needed new makeup because what I have won't work with black. I'm so sorry it took so long. Can you drive back while I get dressed? I won't have time once we get there, so I'd like to do it on the way home. Is that OK?" Carly was breathless as she threw the various bags into Jazz's passenger seat and hopped into the driver's seat herself.  
"Uh, sure, Carly. Look, I can use a holographic driver if you want to start now." The Porsche told the young woman.  
"Really? Oh, that would be gnarly." Carly quickly scrambled over Jazz's console and into the passenger seat. She pushed the seat back as far as it would go and leaned the back down to give herself the maximum room to work.  
"Jazz? Can you make your side windows darker?" She asked as she struggled out of her shoes.  
"Sure, Carly." Jazz darkened his windows and concentrated on driving in the rush hour traffic. Carly had gotten her shoes off and thrown them in Jazz's back seat and she was using a cloth to remove her usual makeup. She reached into another bag and brought out a towel, drying her face and then spreading the towel over her lap. Carly then started pulling out makeup and putting the bottles and boxes on the towel. Jazz turned on a little used monitor to watch. She carefully spread a base over her face and neck, using the mirror on Jazz's passenger visor to check the job she was doing. She screwed the cap on the base and put it into the bag again, then moved on to blush, highlighting her cheekbones and brushing a small amount over her forehead. Jazz was fascinated by the process, and watched carefully as Carly moved on to do her eyes. She frowned and looked out at the traffic. Jazz was doing his best, but traffic was particularly heavy along this stretch of the highway. His top speed was about 10 miles per hour, and Carly nodded to herself.  
"Try not to hit any potholes, OK, Jazz? Or if you're going to, tell me so I don't poke my eye out." She told him.  
"Poke your eye out?" Jazz was startled.  
"I'll explain later." Carly said and pulled out a mascara wand and started to brush it on her eyelashes, again using Jazz's mirror. Once she was done, she screwed the wand back into the bottle and threw it into the bag. Then she pulled out eye shadow and started on her right eye. Jazz kept his speed constant and slow, carefully driving so that Carly was not jostled. She finished the first eye and moved to the second.  
"Do you think I need liner, Jazz?" She asked.  
"What's liner?" He volleyed back.  
"Oh, right. Well, I think I'll skip it." Carly finished her eye and closed the box, then started carefully pulling her shirt over her head. She rifled through the bags and pulled out a black bra. Jazz quickly snapped off the monitor to give her privacy. Carly turned her back to the front windshield and removed her bra, then snapped the black one on. She turned slightly and brought out a black swath of fabric and started pulling it over her head, being very careful around her face. Once the dress was mostly in place, she faced the front again and started wiggling out of her pants. She bundled all her old clothes together and stuffed them in a bag, then pulled a pair of black panties out and eased them over her legs and up. She then pulled the dress down and sat.  
"You can look now, Jazz." She told him dryly.  
"You have to admit this is fascinatin', Carly." Jazz told her.  
"Oh, I understand. I appreciate you not looking while I was semi-naked, but I think you're OK now." Carly pulled out a flat package and ripped it open. To Jazz's surprise, it looked like a black pair of miniature legs. Carly separated them and rolled one over her hands, then started smoothing it over her leg.  
"Carly? Those stockings are defective. They're more holes than fabric." The Porsche told her.  
Carly just laughed at him. "These are fishnet stockings, Jazz, and they're supposed to be holey. It's kind of the point." She continued to pull the stocking up, then pulled a garter over the stocking to hold it in place. She repeated the steps on the other leg, then found her new shoes and wriggled her feet into them.  
"We got a few minutes before we reach your house, Carly." Jazz told her as she was using a brush from her purse to fluff out her hair.  
"Great. I'm almost done here." Carly pulled out a silky mass that unfolded to a lacy shawl and wrapped that around her shoulders. The blonde unwrapped a small evening purse and put the lipstick inside. She then gathered up anything she'd missed and stuffed everything into the two largest bags. Jazz pulled into the driveway. He stopped outside the door and popped his passenger door open. Carly gracefully stepped out, then turned back and grabbed the bags.  
"Thanks, Jazz. I appreciate your help."  
"Sure thing, Carly. Have fun."

 

Prowl tapped in the code to enter his and Jazz's quarters and was surprised to see Jazz stretched out on the berth, his hands behind his helm staring contemplatively at the ceiling.  
"Jazz?" He asked.  
"Oh, hey, Prowl, how was your day?" Jazz sat up.  
"It was fine. What are you thinking about?" Prowl sat on the berth facing the saboteur.  
Jazz was being surprisingly fidgety, and Prowl reached out and laid a hand over the Porsche's. Jazz stilled and after a moment clasped Prowl's hand.  
"Carly's going on a date tonight with Spike, and I took her into town and then got to see her get ready for the date."  
Prowl waited but Jazz added nothing else. "Alright. I don't understand why that would cause you to be so…sober."  
"Thoughtful, you mean, and thanks Prowl. I do think, ya know." Jazz rebuked him gently.  
"Yes, I know you think. But you rarely get so deeply into your thoughts that you become…"  
"Quiet?" Jazz interjected.  
"Yes. So what has you thinking so hard that I can almost see your processor overheating?" Prowl's thumb stroked over Jazz's fingers.  
"Well, Carly did all these things to get ready for this date. She bought a new dress, new shoes, put different makeup on, wore stockings, just…went through a lot of effort and expense to impress Spike, and he's already impressed with her. I'm just trying to understand why she went through so much effort when Spike already likes her the way she is." The saboteur confided.  
Prowl thought about what Jazz had said for a time, then slowly replied, "I think…we all behave differently around the ones we're attracted toward. Sometimes it's little things, sometimes it's larger. I think Carly wants Spike to know that she appreciates his attentions and she's reciprocating by make an effort to please him."  
"But like I said, he already appreciates her. Why do all that extra stuff?" Jazz was genuinely confused, and Prowl set a portion of his processor to research while he searched for the proper words to allay Jazz's discomfort.  
"It's perhaps something like this: why do you bring me energon when I'm working a late shift and you have an early shift? Why, since we've woken from stasis do you find nature documentaries and drag me in to watch them with you?"  
"I…well…because…" Jazz sputtered.  
"You bring me energon because you are thinking about me. You find programs to watch that you think I would enjoy even if you really wouldn't, and you watch them with me because that way you can spend time with me. Right?" Prowl informed him.  
"Right." The saboteur sighed.  
"Carly's doing the same thing for Spike, but they have different social mores than we do." The tactician concluded, satisfied with his explanation.  
Jazz was quiet for a bit, then looked up with a determined expression on his face. "OK, but you need to explain one thing to me."  
"I'll try," returned the Datsun hesitantly.  
"Carly got these things called stockings, and Prowl, they were mostly holes, and I just don't understand why she'd wear something so impractical."  
"What?" Prowl couldn't believe his audios.  
"She called them fishnet, and Prowl, my circuits are frying here 'cause it just don't make sense." Jazz looked mortified that he didn't understand something from Earth's culture. Prowl was sure that this was a rare event in the saboteur's personal history. He clasped Jazz's hand more firmly and searched for images of what Jazz described. He rapidly searched Earth's databases, wish that the human species were more advanced when it came to information retrieval. He finally found an image with poor resolution but it was clear enough for him to understand the description. He smiled and Jazz straightened with a jerk.  
"You don't understand? Oh, Jazz, let me explain for you, please." Prowl practically purred the words out, and Jazz's optics opened so wide they glowed behind his visor. Prowl crawled up on the berth, moving over Jazz who leaned back until he collapsed on his back. The tactician moved up the saboteur's body, finally coming to rest over the Porsche. The Datsun reached down and touched the edge of Jazz's hood, carefully, lightly, using one finger.  
"Fishnet tantalizes, Jazz. It shows more than it hides, but it's a barrier." He traced a line down the white hood to the bumper and continued, "You can see what you want, you can touch what you want, but there's still…something…between you. Something to overcome." His fingers traced the red line running across the front of Jazz's bumper. His voice had deepened and Jazz was having a very difficult time keeping cool. His fans were running on high speed as his systems attempted to vent the heat from his frame. He'd never seen Prowl act this way before, and it was having an amazing effect on his mental state.  
Prowl continued to trace lines down the Porsche's body, moving under the bumper. The saboteur couldn't help the whimper that escaped him as the tactician moved his finger over Jazz's abdomen, moving down to his groin but bypassing all the sensitive areas there. Jazz gasped under his touch, shifting on the berth. Prowl hushed him, moving onto Jazz's leg, continuing to trace a line over the Porsche's body. He continued, "It's a tease, a glimpse of what you want. You could image tracing every line of the stocking. It keeps your mind on what you're seeing and every movement makes you envy those stockings for touching what you can't while you're out in public. You imagine taking those stockings off slowly, re-tracing every line." He traced a line with his forefinger, traced another with his thumb and Jazz's engine revved when Prowl brought his thumb and finger together and gently pinched the armor seam. The Datsun moved further down Jazz's body and brought his glossa into play on Jazz's other leg. The Porsche let his head fall completely back with a groan, unable to keep quiet as Prowl demonstrated for him the power of the imagination. The saboteur continued to writhe under his lover's ministrations, Prowl whispering, "You want to take move your hands to the tops of the stockings, run your fingers under the garter, imagine what the garter looks like. Will it be sexy? Or will it be a contrast to the stockings themselves and be sweet, innocent?" He moved the fingers of one hand in a line over Jazz's thigh, suiting action to words. Jazz was panting by now, unable to cool himself. Prowl moved to his knee and started tracing the sensitive joint, dipping his fingers into the seams and stroking the cables and gears of the joint. Jazz sat up and pulled Prowl up by the shoulders.  
"I need you up here, lover." He told the tactician.  
"Hm, do you?" Prowl moved up over Jazz, coming over him more completely, putting his mouth next to the saboteur's audio and horn. He continued, and the vibrations from his voice had Jazz writhing beneath him, "Do you begin to understand, Jazz, how just seeing something so evocative could drive a lover mad with desire?" The tactician nuzzled the saboteur's horn and lower his voice further. "Do you begin to see the power of suggesting something without confirming or denying? Perhaps you'll get lucky or perhaps you won't." His opposite hand came up to glide around the other horn of Jazz's helm, lightly stroking one finger along the edge. Jazz was gone, lost in a haze of overload, his processor overwhelmed by Prowl's voice and touch. Prowl continued to talk and Jazz felt his processor begin to shut down in self-defense against the intense electrical impulses running over his frame. He felt Prowl's overload take him, triggered by the intensity of Jazz's. Prowl collapsed against Jazz.  
The Porsche went through a reboot of his systems, hot air venting out and heating the room. He shifted Prowl to a more comfortable position, glad when the Datsun became aware enough to assist in getting them both comfortable for recharge. Prowl pressed a gentle kiss to Jazz's lips and closed his optics.  
"Prowl?" The saboteur asked.  
"Yes, Jazz?"  
"Ya see, part of the problem is that fishnet stockings won't work." Jazz told him, aware that his processor was scrambled enough that he might not make sense, but wanting to get this last concern out.  
"Why not, Jazz?" Prowl was half way into recharge by now.  
"Because the string part would get all stuck in my servos and I don't want to explain that to Ratchet."  
"Jazz?"  
"Yes, Prowl?"  
"Recharge."  
"Yes, Prowl."


End file.
